


the shivering soldier

by harryismymuse



Category: Dunkirk (2017)
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, a bit angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-11 00:22:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11702895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harryismymuse/pseuds/harryismymuse
Summary: Alex wants to know how to live with the horrors he witnessed in Dunkirk. Cillian tries to help him cope, even for one night.





	the shivering soldier

**Author's Note:**

> please comment/leave kudos if you like it! This was pretty spur of the moment.

Alex was supposed to be getting on the train. He had a spot in line right behind Tommy, the two of them walking with lowered gazes, the sound of waves crashing and men shouting running on a permanent loop through their heads. They stank of oil and salt water, and every inch of Alex’s skin felt like it was crawling with dirt. He scratched uselessly at his chest through his heavy uniform, but he knew the real itch was shame. It was hot on the back of his neck, burning on his cheeks. He couldn’t look anyone in the eyes, for fear of what would be looking back at him. Yes they’d survived - but that was it. 

If it hadn’t been for the little civilian boat sputtering along the waves at just the right moment, he might not even be standing there. If he’d swam even a little bit slower, he may not have reached safety in time. Could have gone up in flames, right there on the water, charred to a crisp in the middle of all that blue. The fragility of his own life had never been more apparent to him, and he was starting to think the feeling would never leave. 

It was like the boy on the boat. The one with the head injury, lying on the floor; his vest smoothed out over his chest, eyes dull. When Alex had come down with the rest of the men, he’d sat by his side, touched his neck to check for a pulse. The boy was gone, somehow already going cold although he couldn’t have been dead for very long. Alex found out later, from Peter - the boy in the red jumper with the blonde hair - that it was the dark-haired soldier with the clear blue eyes who’d done it. _An unfortunate accident_ he’d called it, but there’d been an odd expression on his face that said there was more to it than that.

Alex saw that same soldier by chance, walking in the opposite direction of everyone else boarding the train. Like all of them, his uniform was still dark with water, freezing cold when paired with the chilly night air. The soldier glanced over his shoulder once, meeting Alex’s gaze with eyes the color of ice, and then picked up his pace.

“Hey!” Alex shouted out to him suddenly, darting out of his spot in line to follow the man. “Hey—” He pushed past men and civilians, keeping his eye on the dark-haired figure until he finally lost him in the crowd. 

Alex stood still and looked around for a while longer, something sinking in his chest. But eventually the glow of an ember caught his attention, and he saw the soldier standing in front of a bakery shop window, lighting a cigarette with his hand cupped against the slight wind. The glow from the cigarette lit up his face for a moment in the darkness, throwing shadows across eerily high cheekbones and those ghost-like eyes. The man’s hair was still wet somehow, hanging along the side of his face, brushing his temple.

“Uh… hello.” Alex said when he was close enough to the soldier to speak. He suddenly realized he had no real reason to chase the man down. Nothing really to say. His throat felt like it was closing, like he was drowning all over again. 

“You want a light?” The soldier asked, glancing up at Alex expectantly. 

Alex was caught off guard at the man’s voice, not expecting it to be so low and morbid, a bit like his own. He shook his head at the offer, turned his body around so he was leaning up against the shop window next to him. 

“I’m Alex.”

The man didn’t respond for a long time, but eventually he did. He said the name slowly, like he had only just decided he could trust Alex enough to have a conversation. “Cillian.” He said.

“You’re that soldier who was already on the boat when the rest of us got rescued.” Alex doesn’t say it as a question. He was there, he knows. 

“Kid you’re gonna miss your train.”

“Aren’t you riding it, too?” Alex furrows his brows, a bit defensive suddenly. He was no ‘kid’. After what he’d seen, after what he’d done, he was every bit the man as someone twice his age. He felt weathered, irreversibly damaged but still holding together. 

“I don’t have anywhere I need to go.” Cillian replied, finally stomping out his cigarette under his foot. He lit another one, just like that. “I had a wife, but she died ten months ago. We didn’t have any children. My parents are dead, my brother is dead. It’s just me.” 

Alex pressed his lips together, not knowing what to say. He decides to just stay silent, listening to the sound of heavy boots walking along the streets. Low murmurs of tired men talking amongst each other in few words, the horrors of Dunkirk still weighing heavy on their tongues, keeping them quiet. 

“You’re gonna miss your train.” Cillian said again, still smoking. 

“How do you live with it?” Alex asked, suddenly desperate to know if he’d ever stop feeling like every breath he took would be his last. Like he’d never be able to close his eyes without seeing fire and oil, hear the screams of the men dying in the water. 

Cillian actually grinned. It was a morbid one though, crooked and tight, never reaching his eyes. “You don’t. You just keep surviving and try to convince yourself it means something that you’re still here.”

Alex opened his mouth to say something but the train whistle cut him off. It’d finished boarding, and Cillian was right; he’d never make it back in time. He was spending the night right where he was, with the icy-eyed soldier who smoked like a chimney and still had a wedding band glinting on his left ring finger. 

Cillian ran a hand through his hair, watching with Alex as the train ground to life, moving slow along the tracks. When he turned back around, Alex saw something glint in the man’s gaze. Cillian looked him up and down, then seemed to consider something before motioning with his chin to the floor above the bakery. The windows were boarded up and the place was abandoned. In fact, the bakery itself was bare except the sign in the window. Inside, things were dark, and the paint on the door was peeling so badly it looked like bark. 

 

Alex and Cillian made their way through the old building, up to the second floor where there was an old studio flat. Just about every surface was covered in dust, dirt, and God knows what. Cillian found an old lumpy mattress lying abandoned in the corner and he beat it until clouds of dust blew off it, making Alex cough. The mattress was old and brown-looking and way too small for both of them. 

“This isn’t going to work. Let’s just ask around to see if someone will spare us a room for the night.” Alex said.

But Cillian shook his head. He reached out and touched Alex’s jaw with one dirty, pale finger, causing the younger man to shut his eyes while an unexpected chill ran down his spine. 

“Lie down on the bed sweetheart,” Cillian said, barely over a whisper by Alex’s ear. Alex nodded, breathing slow. He stripped out of his heavy jacket and his boots, setting them neatly aside. He sat down on the mattress and looked up, watching the older soldier do the same. 

When they were both on the mattress, Cillian reached over and pulled Alex closer, wasting no time pressing their lips together in a kiss. The first time it’s chaste, the second time is much harder and more desperate, Cillian’s tongue fighting into Alex’s mouth. Alex fought back, pushing against Cillian until their teeth clacked. It didn’t take long at all for them to start panting against one another, eager hands reaching lower and lower. When Cillian finally took Alex in his hand, it was euphoric. He let out a loud moan, head rolling back.

“Been a while?” Cillian murmured against Alex’s neck, working him with long, slow strokes. Cillian’s hand slid easily with the added help of precome dribbling from Alex’s tip. 

“It’s been ages,” Alex practically whimpered it, arching his back from the mattress as Cillian bent down and nipped along the base of his neck. Alex was about to come, he could feel it coiling in his abdomen like a spring. He pushed Cillian’s hand away and bit his lip. “Would you… I….”

Cillian’s pupils were blown wide, and his lips were bruised and deep pink. He swiped his thumb over Alex’s mouth, admiring the shape of it. “You want me inside of you?”

Alex’s dick twitched in his pants, and he felt a flush spread all the way up his chest to his cheeks. He nodded quickly, “Yeah, I wanna feel you,”

Cillian swore and stood to strip down the rest of his clothes. Alex took his clothes off too, that time lying them down across the mattress so his bare ass wasn’t lying on its stained surface. He laid down and spread his legs, making a sound in his throat when Cillian gripped his thighs hard and bent them back until they burned. 

It was dry and a little painful for Cillian to get him opened up, but when he finally pushed in, Alex’s eyesight went white and prickly at the edges with pleasure. He moaned, gasped every time Cillian snapped his hips back and drove in again. 

Cillian swore once more, his voice harsh and gritted out as his thrusts grew erratic. He collapsed forward on Alex’s chest when he finally came, groaning in his ear as he emptied himself. He smelled of salt water and sweat, his hair falling over his eyes as he moved down Alex’s body and took him in his mouth. Alex sucked in a sharp breath and held onto the back of Cillian’s head as he came down his throat. 

Exhaustion gripped them immediately, weighing down on them like a tomb. Alex’s limbs were loose and pliant, and he let Cillian pull him closer, nudge up so close along the curve of his back that he could practically feel the other man’s heartbeat through his chest. He was nearly asleep when he heard Cillian whisper something by his ear. 

“There’s no living with this. There’s no fixing us.”


End file.
